


No-good men

by StAnni



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 11:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: They were never good guys, never decent people.  And back before they met Dom, back before Arthur became a designated driver of life, they were basically monsters, dirty and (sometimes) cheap.  So the first time was unexpected, but it didn’t necessarily come as a surprise.  At some point it was bound to happen.





	No-good men

They were never good guys, never decent people. And back before they met Dom, back before Arthur became a designated driver of life, they were basically monsters, dirty and (sometimes) cheap. So the first time was unexpected, but it didn’t necessarily come as a surprise. At some point it was bound to happen.

Holed up in a safe house, which was nothing but a one bedroom apartment in Wimbledon South, they shared a double mattress on the floor at night. And then one night Arthur turned to him, his hand beneath the cheap fabric of the bed-cover working what was clearly an impressive hard-on. “Come on, you want to come…” Arthur breathed, his eyes intense and dark and Eames required no formal invitation. Right there, with Arthur’s face inches from his, he started to work himself and in no time pushed his engorged cock against Arthur’s and his breath ran ragged as Arthur wrapped his hand around both of them – the slick pre-cum of their heads sliding against each other giving just too little lubrication and the whole experience being just on the right side of rough. He had come first, with a groan and Arthur hadn’t even paused – hadn’t even slowed – just pumped him through it and after a few deliciously sore tugs spilled warm and thick on his cock, caking his pubic hair. The sight of it, the sound of Arthur’s stifled moan, had almost been enough to harden him up again.

“Didn’t know that about you.” Eames had breathed and Arthur rolled on his back – cock limp beneath the stained sheet. “What?” He asked, nonplussed and Eames had chuckled “That you go for cock.” Arthur glanced at him, eyes still dark – utterly unreadable, and shrugged “I’m omnivorous” and that drew a real laugh from Eames because yes, that was Arthur.

The second time was in that same room, not even a few hours later. As if they had broken the seal Arthur woke up and pushed Eames over, pulling the cover down and exposing his ass to the chill of the morning air. Eames had looked over his shoulder, surprised “You don’t even know if I like that.” He mumbled and Arthur licked-bit his ear-lobe – turning the world to nothing but sex “Come on Eames, how would you not like me to I spread your legs, eat you out, get you ready to push my hot, thick cock up into you and fuck you , thoroughly, until I come, deep, deep inside your ass.”  
Arthur was not shy.   
Eames almost came twice from Arthur’s tongue and when he did push inside – one slow merciless thrust up to the balls, Eames had to ask him to slow down – his own cock painfully hard and heavy against the sheets. Arthur waited there, arms strong and braced on either side of Eames’ shoulders. Eames became acutely aware of Arthur’s breath, warm and uneven, against his neck, the hair around his cock, rough curls against Eames’ spread cheeks. Eames nodded, desperate, for Arthur to go ahead.  
And Arthur did fuck him thoroughly – staying deep, every thrust a shove spreading him wider and Eames had to push back up against him, squeeze his dick not to come too soon. Arthur was relentlessly verbal and unbearably hot “Fuck, I’m deep, you’re tight – Eames, so fucking tight…so hot…you’ll feel my thick cock in you today, all day…” And he came, moaning hot and thrusting, fucking Eames through his own orgasm again, until he collapsed, warm, on Eames’ back.

It was two blazing times and then it stopped. Midday they received the call and Arthur was packing up his duffel bag – eyes focused on not leaving a trace. He hadn’t even looked at Eames again and Eames, in turn, collected his shit from around the room – pulled on a shirt and headed for the door without a word. 

Outside, checking the bus numbers Arthur had come up behind him, staying a few feet back. “The train station is just a short walk away” he offered, blankly and Eames, fighting against a petty urge to ignore him, glanced coolly at Arthur’s perfect face “I’m heading South.” he said by way of vague explanation and Arthur nodded, pulling his duffel over his shoulder and turned the other way – walking towards the station.

Their third time was a year later. It was a few months after Dom’s wedding and Eames had been in a dark, dark place. It was different. Arthur had sauntered into a bar across the street from the bank Eames was going to rob next day and had sat down next to Eames as if he knew (which he did) that Eames would be there. “There’s a hit on you.” Arthur said casually – ordering a beer and Eames shook his head – not wanting to look at those lips. “How much am I at?” he asked and Arthur smirked “Way too much for the likes of you, really.” It was a tease and it didn’t hurt but the fact that Arthur was at ease enough to tease him did hurt in a way. “So you’re here to claim the prize?” he asked and Arthur shook his head, brow furrowing almost in distaste. “I don’t do call-up jobs. I’ve got a reputation to think about.” And he was right. Arthur wasn’t the type of hitman who scrambled after bounty jobs. He was a professional – the customized deal – exclusive.   
“So you’re just in the neighborhood then?” Eames asked, trying to sound dry and Arthur’s eyes creased as he smiled “It was an educated guess. Thought you may have Sterling First in your cross-hairs.”   
Scary as it was at how predictable Eames’ choice of target may have been he also knew that not many people had the capacity to think like Arthur.   
He gave Arthur a good once over – much to Arthur’s contained amusement – and licked his lips subtly, for effect. “You hungry, darling?” he asked and Arthur leaned in, breath of cigarettes and whiskey. “An hour ago I rode three fingers thinking about your come on my ass, I’m fucking starving.”

It was Eames who took over that night, and Arthur let him. He bit into Arthur’s shoulder as he rammed them up against the corner of the bathroom stall – Arthur’s tight ass white hot around his cock. It was over in just a few minutes – but fucking surreal and wild. Arthur chocked groans as Eames pumped deeper inside, pulling Arthur’s thighs roughly back, remembering how Arthur had split him – shoved into him. He came sloppily, on purpose, pulling out and letting the come drip from Arthur’s ass to his pants crumpled on the floor around his ankles. Arthur cursed – maybe at the come on his pants, maybe in exhaustion, maybe even in satisfaction.  
And it was Eames who left first, and he didn’t wait in the bar as he would have. He made himself leave, made himself walk out into the cool night air, his cock still twinging. 

In Mombasa, seven months later, Arthur found him again, knocked on his door in fact and Eames gave Arthur, drenched on his doorstep, a cool look. “You’ve wandered a bit far from home, Arthur.” Arthur’s face was grave and obscured by ugly shadows under the buzzing porch light. “Dom ran.” He said and Eames blinked. He’d heard about the charges, the claims. He’d been worried for Dom and his wife for a good few years, dabbling in dreamshare as if it was a recreational drug. “Good for him.” Eames answered, because he didn’t know what else to say. Arthur had pushed inside, his jacket slick and smelling of ozone. “I’ve got to find him” Arthur had said, slicking his hands through his hair, the drops running down his neck.  
“Well, he’s not here.” 

Eames, though irritatingly aroused at the sight of Arthur, was not in the mood to be fucked around with in his own home, especially since he had just started a semi-normal and pleasant relationship with a local café owner. “And I’m not in the market for whatever else you want.” He finished bluntly – ignoring the withering roll of Arthur’s eyes at that. “You’re not in the market?” Arthur smirked, unkindly as he shirked off his jacket and started to unbutton his wet shirt underneath. “What, are you married?” His tone was derisive, impatient and Eames looked away from his olive chest, the feint line of hair traveling down to his belt. Eames shook his head “Not married, but seeing someone. So there will be none of this.” 

At that Arthur laughed, actually laughed, and unbuckled his belt – pushing his pants down to the floor and stepping out, naked as the night, cock flushed. Eames looked away, his mouth dry. “Come on, I’m fucking running all over the place, I’ve got a flight back in the morning, “ From the corner of his eye he could see Arthur stroking himself – openly – in the middle of his garishly decorated one bedroom. When he finally did look at Arthur his eyes were dark, steely with lust “Get on your knees, I want your mouth.” 

Since the fourth they haven’t had a fifth and Arthur is sitting to the left of him, focused on his note pad – all suits and lines these days – apparently having found himself in the dreamshare niche, and, as expected, surpassing every other point-man job by job. No more dirty talk, no more cocks out. Just all even eyes and thin smiles.  
“This, Ariadne, would be kick.”

The job is a shit show but they make it out alive. At the baggage turnstiles, after Dom makes it through without a hitch, Arthur turns to Eames – jacket slung over his shoulder, neat and tidy. “Your forges could be tighter.” He offers, apropos of nothing and Eames raises his eyebrows, pretending to deliberate the wholly unsolicited advice “Oh you’re considering a foray into forging then, love?” and Arthur blushes, actually blushes at the endearment. It is shocking, frustratingly charming and infuriating at once – what the fuck happened to them? 

“A foray. Maybe.” And then after a pause – eyes light and clear – he makes a slight indication with his head “You doing anything after this?”   
Eames sighs, rolls his shoulders back and looks Arthur dead in the eye – in Mombasa he had gripped Arthur by the ass, held him there as he came warm and thick in Eames’ mouth and after Arthur had licked into his mouth with a hunger, ferocious before turning over on all fours on the carpet, begging hoarse with want “Fuck me, come on, fuck me”. Arthur -an omnivore, indeed. 

“Not sure. Tell me what you have in mind.” Eames says evenly, waiting.

And Arthur, spectacular Arthur, delivers “I’ve got this urge to watch your face as you stretch down on me, ride me while I’m tied to the bedposts, watch you come all over me without being touched. Maybe, possibly, for the foreseeable future.” 

Eames is breathless.

Arthur smiles “Come on, think you can handle this cock on a more frequent basis?”


End file.
